


The Arrangement

by Sunshinegrimes



Category: Daredevil (TV), Jessica Jones (TV), The Defenders (Marvel TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Barebacking, Blow Jobs, Bottom Matt Murdock, Catholic Guilt, Choking, Dubious Consent, Edgeplay, Face Slapping, Gift Giving, I will make this ship sail damn it, Kilgrave - Freeform, M/M, Matt Murdock is a slut, One Night Stand, Oral Sex, Post Defenders, Restraints, Rough Sex, Sugar Daddy Kilgrave, That gets out of hand, Top Kilgrave, unhealthy relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-03
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-12-23 08:51:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11986404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunshinegrimes/pseuds/Sunshinegrimes
Summary: They had an arrangement. As far as Matt was concerned, it wasn't personal at all. If you asked Matt how it had started, he would say that it was a one-night stand that had escalated wildly out of control the moment it had begun.----Or: the one where Kilgrave didn't die at the end of Jessica Jones, and returns to NYC to pursue a different Defender.





	The Arrangement

**Author's Note:**

> Set after The Defenders.

They had an arrangement. As far as Matt was concerned, it wasn't personal at all. If you asked Matt how it had started, he would say that it was a one-night stand that had escalated wildly out of control the moment it had begun.

Normally, he kept his two lives as separate as possible. The balance of them, no matter how precarious, was a testament to how devoted he was to his city. Both Matt Murdock and Daredevil protected Hell's kitchen in their own, different ways, and if Matt had his way, that's how it would have stayed. That was, until he met Kilgrave.

He did not, at the time, know that the man he chose to bring back to his apartment was Kilgrave. Had he known, he would never have let the man buy him a drink, or three, and most certainly would not have woken up the next morning with a hangover, an ache in his thighs, and fresh bruises on his neck and wrists.

There was also the case of the flowers on his kitchen counter, a thank you, he supposed, already cut to fit and nestled in a vase that Matt definitely hadn't bought himself. They were expensive, fresh roses, lilies and lisianthus, he knew the florist they were from, having frequently passed it on the long way home from work.

Things escalated quickly after that. He began receiving presents on his doorstep. Courting gifts, like a new scarf as the weather grew colder, and a particularly luxurious silk shirt. He had worn it to his next court hearing, and the smoothness of the fabric had felt soothing against the wounds his other life had left on his skin.

 

The next time the man paid him a visit, it was a rain soaked evening, leaving everything outside muted and muffled to his senses. Matt didn't mind the rain when he was inside, but it made working at night a little harder, more disorienting. He was about to get ready when a sudden, familiar scent caught his attention. The man had ridden in a taxi to his apartment, and was making his way upstairs at a calm, collected pace.

Running his tongue over his lips, Matt was anything but collected as he stashed the trunk containing his suit away back in his wardrobe. The skin on the back of his neck prickled as he remembered how the man had first approached him in the same, nonchalant way. He had decided to drink alone at a bar, not at Josie’s for a change, and let the alcohol numb his guilt. Last night’s venture had gone horribly wrong. There had been 3 hostages, and only 2 had made it. _Why hadn't he heard the gun?_

He shook himself from the memory, and slid his glasses back on, self-consciously smoothing the front of his shirt (the shirt, he realised, that the man had given him). His door received three, expectant raps of the man’s knuckles, and Matt invited him in for coffee.

Yet it was evident from the way the man plastered himself to his back, and began to kiss along his nape with an easy confidence, that he was not interested in coffee. For a few, long seconds, the resolve Matt had tried to build held firm, and he let out the barest of protests before he was spun around and a mouth covered his own.

After that, Matt barely spoke. He was extracted from the kitchen, and led to his worn, comfortable couch that they had bypassed completely the first night. He was pulled onto the man’s lap, and continued to kiss him with an intensity that took Matt a while to adjust to. A sucking bite was pressed to his throat, a hand halfway to undoing his trousers whilst the other groped at his ass almost obscenely. Matt keened and scrabbled to find purchase on the back of the couch, the old leather feeling smooth under his fingers in stark contrast to the rasp of stubble against his jaw. He tried to reach up and touch the other man's cheek, but was met with firm admonishment. Touching, he was told, was not allowed until he was given permission.

It was only when he was bare, and spread like an offering on his own bed, that Matt realised he did not even know the identity of his admirer. Perhaps he did not want to know. It had, admittedly, crossed his mind to ask, when the man had first slid him a drink. But candidly, the anonymity, the blank he drew when he tried to recall a name, only added fuel to the fire in his stomach. Commitment to anything outside of his carefully controlled double life was difficult. If it had just been sex, that would have been easy, no strings attached. The gifts, however, boasted possession, a desire for more. He had confided, as a second, slicked finger worked into him, that he wanted to know what name to call out, a ruddy heat painting him from his cheeks to his chest. A graze of nails on his inner thigh answered him, followed by a purring tone that _Sir_ was enough. So, it was.

He was practically boneless as he was fucked through his second orgasm. The first had come after what felt like an age of teasing, long fingers plunging into him and that clever tongue circling his cock head. He had screamed this time, his breath punching out of him as he was stroked through the afterglow. He was over sensitive, every drag of the smooth hand on his length feeling too much. Matt begged him to stop.

He had almost passed out completely when the man pulled away from him. Matt was faintly aware of the hot, oozing sensation of cum leaking from his hole. He choked on a sob when a washcloth was soothed over his skin, his throat feeling raw and overused. A soft voice shushed him, and a gentle kiss was placed against the corner of his lips that Matt felt himself leaning into. By the time he was able to string words together, the other man was already heading out the door, leaving Matt alone almost as quickly as he had come.

 

It wasn’t until a few days later, when Matt found himself tied to his headboard with the man’s belt choking the air from his lungs, that it began to set in just how dangerous these meetings were. Matt knew he had a reckless streak. Almost everyone who had come to know him as Daredevil had denounced him as a hazard to his own health, and he knew that he reveled in the thrill of the nightly conflict he threw himself into. The difference between sizing up a room full of criminals, and submitting himself to this treatment, was that he had not negotiated any terms to their arrangement. The other man, or _Sir_ , as he preferred to be called, called the shots, and Matt listened with an obedience that was uncharacteristic of his usual stubborn nature.

Matt was wrenched from his thoughts by a stinging slap to his cheek, and his senses exploded with a ringing from the strength of it. Matt knew that if he wanted to, he could escape his bonds, and break the man’s jaw, but instead he resumed his task of sucking the thick cock that was pressed against his tongue. It was the single mindedness, the intensity of this sex, that had appealed to him from the very first night. Right now, he had only one thing to concern himself with, which was worshiping the man above him, and remembering to breathe between the slow thrusts of his hips.

Later that evening, he would find his own release on his own fingers, thighs spread open obscenely and tears streaking his cheeks. He had been on the edge for almost 10 minutes, and every time he had almost tipped over the edge, he had been told to slow down. Despite his pleading, he was not allowed to stop, and finding the right balance had left his legs trembling and his cock throbbing in discomfort. As he lay catching his breath, his come cooling on the taut muscles of his stomach, Matt heard the familiar voice above him praising him. He basked in it, slipping his fingers from his entrance and stretching his sore legs out. A careful thumb brushed a tear from his cheek, and Matt felt a warmth in his chest at the tenderness of the gesture. Just before he left, a voice floated over to him from the front door.

“You’re so good, Matthew. So obedient. My powers might not work on you, but they don’t need to, do they?”

Matt froze, a chill piercing through his chest. He felt repulsed, and horrified at himself. The happy glow that had encapsulated him crumbled away to ruin, and he tasted bile in his mouth. It felt as though a key had been turned in his head, and suddenly all the locks tumbled into place. The gifts, luxurious and tailored to his daily life, were too dear, something a friend would pick out. Not something suited to the remoteness of their relationship. The flowers, carefully chosen, took on a suspicious air as he recalled their proximity to his work space. The final blow came, when he recalled that a few weeks prior, Jessica had crashed at his apartment, rain soaked, half unconscious and staggering. It had taken a few hours to coax out the cause of her distress, after she had thrown up in the bathroom and accepted his change of shirt. She explained, in a bitter tone, that she suspected that Kilgrave was back in Hell’s kitchen, and the guilt of being unable to kill him the first time had driven her to the nearest 24-hour liquor store.

After that admission, it would be a week before Matt saw Kilgrave again, and the marks on his skin from their rough sex had faded, replaced by those from his other life. Then, one day, Kilgrave arrived unannounced, as he had the previous 3 times. This time, Matt was waiting for him. They talked, and Matt felt his skin crawl as he realised how deeply he had been led astray by his own depravities. Kilgrave was honest, frank even, as he explained Jessica no longer held any interest for him. Matt argued that he had been manipulated, and Kilgrave replied coolly that Matt had obeyed him out of his own desires, that had he really been under his control, he would not have needed punishing so much. Their argument drew to a close, and Matt didn’t feel any better, but he couldn’t argue that what Kilgrave and he had done had felt good.

The guilt ate away at him for the next few days, but the next time Kilgrave delivered flowers to his door, this time by hand, Matt was unable to resist the bruising kiss that came with them. He had been on edge night after night, debating his loyalty to Jessica and his friends for not telling them. So far, however, Kilgrave had not pursued or endangered them in the slightest. Pitifully so, if he was also honest with himself, he missed the sex. It was a flimsy, pathetic enough excuse at best, and he was almost certain that the others would hold it against him if they knew.

That night, after they had fucked on the couch, and then the bed, Matt caught Kilgrave’s arm before he could pull away too far. Kilgrave had questioned him, used to a quick exit after they had both had their fill of each other’s bodies, but this time Matt had questions. He asked, with sleep slurring his voice, whether he could trust Kilgrave to keep their arrangement a secret. His concerns, it turned out, were completely unnecessary, as Kilgrave rationalised that the less the others knew of his whereabouts, the better it was for him. He left, and Matt had barely heard the taxi pull away before he let sleep claim him again.

As it would happen, their arrangement worked well for both of them, it wasn’t personal, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Whew. Finally, all done! This is my first contribution to Netflix Marvel universe :)  
> Hope you liked it!
> 
> \- SunshineGrimes


End file.
